Chapter Four — The Gate Within
Azeroth lay still in his crib, trying—and failing—to calm the frantic beating of his tiny heart.
"…Damn," he whispered in the privacy his mind, "definitely a protagonist-level grandpa."
The moment Viscount Alfred stepped into the room, he had nearly died from sheer panic. Being stared down by such a level of powerhouse was the kind of stress that should come with a medical warnings.
He really thought he'd been exposed.
Only now, with the room quiet and empty, could he finally suck in a shaky breath of relief.
But the encounter also opened another school of thought in Azeroth's mind.
His grandfather was strong—terrifyingly so—but clearly not the strongest in the world. If he had been, the Clinton family wouldn't have the declined status still,
Which meant there were people out there even scarier than his grandfather… people whose slightest curiosity could peel him open like a fruit and discover secrets he couldn't afford to reveal.
The more Azeroth thought about it, the colder he felt.
This world was dangerous—far more dangerous than he initially believed.
Still… not everything about the meeting was bad.
It was the first time Azeroth had ever felt essence with his own body.
And that sensation… that sensation was indescribable.
Ecstasy, warmth, clarity—it had flowed through his veins like liquid lightning, and for a moment, his frail baby body felt alive in a way it never had before.
He couldn't measure it precisely, but he was certain: his strength had at least doubled, maybe even tripled in that moment.
For a three-month-old, that was absurd. With a body that small, such a boost meant he could probably sit up—or maybe even toddle—if he tried.
No wonder those soldiers' were so strong and their bodies looked forged from iron.
And beyond that… his grandfather's words still echoed in his mind:
A mutated physique…
semi-opened core…
One-in-a-million genius…
Azeroth didn't know what all of that meant yet, but his instincts whispered one thing clearly—this was his advantage.
Who knows, this mutated physique might even be his cheat.
It also means he did not have to go through the trash phase or being bullied by others, as some novel protagonists do.
He let himself smile at that.
His family too. From what he'd observed so far, the Clintons were surprisingly… sane. There were no arrogant idiots, no petty young masters plotting to sabotage him, no backstabbing siblings waiting to push him off a balcony. Everyone behaved with a kind of composed nobility that was refreshing.
Even the servants were treated well.
In a world where personal power eclipsed armies, that kind of decency was sure to be rare.
Sure, there might be a rotten apple hidden somewhere. But compared to the horror stories he'd read, being born into this family was practically winning the jackpot.
He lets all those thoughts go and focused on the most important part of the day. essence energy.
He had felt it once—thanks to his grandfather—but now he wanted to try to feel it again, by himself. To seek out whatever his grandfather called a "semi-opened core."
He wasn't quite sure why, curiosity, maybe it was instinct.
Either way, he surrendered to it.
Azeroth calmed his breathing and closed his eyes.
Letting the memory of that moment pull him inward. The warmth. the pulse, the strange, tingling comfort—as he searched for the "semi-opened core" his grandfather mentioned.
On Earth, people had praised his high IQ, but that wasn't what made him exceptional. Instead it was his ability to focus. To shut out the world and pour his entire mind and being into a single task until he mastered it.
That same ability stirred now.
His breathing softened. The world dimmed.
He sank deeper.
Then—
Time… shifted.
It stretched. Deepened.
His consciousness sharpened to a needle's point.
He didn't know how long he drifted like that before something changed.
Before he saw it.
Azeroth stood—though he had no body—in front of something he had no words for. A presence. An anomaly. A shape that struggled to be.
He didn't know how to describe it.
Didn't know if it had a name.
It glitched.
Flickered.
First a bottomless pool of black water.
Then a golden statue whose face glitched and blurred into static.
Then a towering pagoda stretching beyond sight.
The forms flickered faster and faster, each one glitching and stuttering like a broken frame in reality.
Finally, the shifting stopped.
A gate stood before him.
A towering, immeasurable gate whose edges stretched beyond comprehension. Even now, it glitched faintly, as if resisting the constraints of form.
Azeroth's breath hitched.
"What the hell…? What is this place?"
He should have been terrified.
But strangely… he wasn't.
There was this pull.
This… familiarity.
As if this place had always been part of him—something he had forgotten and had now remembered.
Leaving him feeling… complete.
The gate pulsed faintly.
Calling him.
Azeroth swallowed, nerves twisting with an instinctual urgency he couldn't understand.
He had—no needed to open it.
He didn't know why—only that he must.
He approached, placed his trembling 'hands' on the surface—though it didn't feel like a surface at all. More like touching the idea of a surface.
He pushed.
Nothing happened.
Not even a shiver.
He growled in frustration.
"Move… you… bastard!"
He pushed harder—every ounce of will, every thread of concentration, pouring into the action.
The gate groaned.
A sound like grinding mountains echoed through the space.
Ka-chunk—
Creeeeeeak—
A sliver of space, borderline invisible, opened.
Then—
BOOM.
Light—no, energy—leaked out through the crack, slamming into him with raw force.
Azeroth gasped—
because the moment it touched him, His mind blanked.
It felt like essence…
but not quite.
Before he could even concentrate on the sensation, His Consciousness flickered—
And he blacked out.
——————
Far Away
In a void without stars, without life—not even the idea of it—a naked humanoid figure floated in perfect stillness.
His beauty defied comprehension, like an artwork carved before the very laws of imperfection came to be.
Now and then, a shimmer rippled across him—green and soft, like waves brushing the shore of a nonexistent sea.
In that empty expanse, a voice echoed—soft, feminine, yet carried enough power to birth a big bang. In less than a moment universes exploded into being around her syllables.
"Awaken, oh time of the ######## and heed my call,
the forsaken lives."
At those words,—
His eyes snapped opened.
Revealing brilliant, enchanting green pupils that In their depths swirled a compilation of broken timelines and forgotten moments.
The man rose.
A flash of green drowned the void—
And he vanished.
Only a wisp of that light remained behind.
It brushed against the newly-born universes forming from the woman's voice—
triggering chaos.
Time fractured. Accelerated in some places. Stalled in others. Paradoxes piled upon paradoxes.
Until the young universes imploded under the weight of the anomaly, crumpling back into nothing.
Silence reclaimed the void.
As if nothing had ever existed.
———
Across unreachable distances, more beings stirred—pulled awake by the same call.
And just like him, they all heeded.